


Ships Pass in the Night

by theblindtorpedo



Category: Gravity Falls, Rick and Morty
Genre: Angst, Dialogue Heavy, FiddlestanWeek, M/M, Old Age, Past Relationship(s), Unexpected Visitors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-04
Updated: 2015-08-04
Packaged: 2018-04-13 00:36:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4501047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theblindtorpedo/pseuds/theblindtorpedo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rick drops in on the Mystery Shack for four hours and is made aware of Stan's current relationship with a certain old kook</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ships Pass in the Night

The sound of screeching metal and snap of wood interrupted the kiss. And just as he had been starting to enjoy himself, Fiddleford lamented, as Stan's face immediately clenched in aggravation.

"That schmuck's always had the worst timing." Stan's Yiddish always came out stronger when he was stressed. He carefully pushed Fiddleford away as he climbed off the bed and made for the stairs.

"Aren't you going to put some clothes on?"

"Nope. Stay here and don't worry your pretty little head. I'll take care of this."

Fiddleford obeyed, not particularly inclined to leave the warmth of the bed. He pulled the pooled blankets closer as he busied himself listening to the foreign sounds pouring through the window. The usual rustles of the night were now usurped by a two toned babble, one voice high and tremulous, the other a gravelly staccato. Fiddleford strained to make out sentences amongst the gibberish, groans and belches. He wondered what relation Stan had to the people outside. A past prisonmate? Someone he owed money? A friend from Jersey?

"Grunkle Fiddleford what's going on?" Dipper and Mabel stood in the doorway, eyes still dull from sleep.

"From what I know, I reckon a friend of your Grunkle's came to visit. I'm sure you'll find out in the morning." 

"Okayyyy." Dipper wiped at crusted eyes as Mabel yawned. The poor dears looked too tired to put up too much of a fight, although Fiddleford knew Dipper's mind must be eager to find the source of the weird commotion and Mabel's mind was ecstatic over the prospect of a new friend. Fiddleford left the bed to place a hand on each shoulder and guide them upstairs back to their bedroom.

They tucked themselves into bed as he watched, a memory flashing of another small brown head. He let himself remember fully: the bright eyes of his son, that had once sparkled for him, hidden behind floppy bangs. Now they stared hard and irritated, ringed by deep circles belying years of undue stress and grief. There was a sharp sorrowful pang in Fiddleford's chest, an unwelcome, but necessary feeling he'd been growing more accustomed to as his memories returned. He resolved to visit the lake tomorrow.

Mabel waved her arms at him, beckoning for a kiss which was readily given and although he had not asked for such, Fiddleford moved to reward Dipper with the same on the cheek. The boy averted his eyes, but the small smile betrayed his pleasure at the gesture of affection.

Fiddleford loved the Pines family far too much for his own good.

 

The two visitors were seated around the small kitchen table, Stan leaning against the wall.

There was a medium sized boy in his early teens, clad in the blandest of yellow tshirts and blue jeans. He possessed an utterly unremarkable face that currently wore an expression of existential resignation and general exhaustion.

The other strange man was all angles, a sharp spider with flared blue hair. The face was greyed, eyes accentuated by paler bags of skin. His hands shrunken, large veins throbbing under thin skin where they now clutched at a cup of coffee (Fiddleford guessed from the smell). Yet, age and small size did not detract from the gravity of the man's presence. He occupied space fully, an inexplicable sizzling energy inside him demanding attention. Now, as Fiddleford entered, the man's head pivoted, fixing him with a bug eyed stare.

"W-what's this piece of -blegh- work?"

Stan wiped at where flecks of spit hit his chin.

"That's my, uh, my-"

"I'ma friend of his," Fiddleford interceded.

A lascivious grin spread the visitor's sallow cheeks wide, baring tombstone teeth. "Hey, hey, hey, I get it. Stan's always got a lot of 'friends.' Thirty years ago this bozo was a 'friend' of mine too." And the conman suddenly felt his mouth assaulted by a set of eager Latino lips and teeth.

"Rick!" the boy at the table screamed.

Rick released a reeling Stan, smacking his lips obscenely. "Jesus, c-calm down Morty. I have no idea how you got to be such a prude. I'm not the one who b-bURGh-begged his Grandpa to buy a sex bot."

Morty shut his mouth, but crossed his arms indignantly.

"Don't worry, kid. We've all been there," Stan said with a weak chuckle, still recovering from shock as he breathed heavily. Rick looked smug as a cat, taking another sip of his coffee.

"You still can't brew for for shit, Stan, but I gotta say this isn't half bad with the whiskey i added."

Stan turned on his best stern face. "Look, whatever you came here for, you gotta leave. I got my grand nice and nephew here. Actual kids I don't want you tainting with your . . . lifestyle."

Rick pursed his lips, widening his eyes in a dopey expression.

"I have no idea what emotion you are going for," Stan deadpanned.

"He always liked that face," Rick stage whispered to a Fiddleford who was still frozen by the whole overwhelming situation.

"And don't harass Fiddleford!"

"Fiddleford," Rick asked, cocking his head, "only a couple people in the universe with that dumbass first name. Even fewer who'd spend time with you." He held out his hands counting on his fingers. "Wait, your brothers dumb roomate from college?! Fiddleford . . . McGucket?"

"Yessiree, that's me."

"Holy fuck! Stan, why didn't you TELL me?! Fucking Fiddleford McGucket! YOU fucking Fiddleford McGucket, heh. Y'know I h-heard about this guy! Your dimension's barely established intergalactic relations, l-let alone transdimensional travel. So when the mu-urp-ltiverse felt a portal forming on Earth C137 it was all the rage. God, everywhere i looked something about blah blah blah new tourists and blah trading partners. Stick it to you to be connected to the single b-biggest capitalist disappointment in the last ten years. And you made a physical portal, sheesh. TOTALLY overkill. Ju-just get yourself one of these babies and save the headache."

Rick whipped a gun out from the holster at his hip and Stan promptly tackled him to the floor. They went down with loud yells, as Stan wrested the gun from Rick's hands, only to find himself hauled off Rick's body, surprisingly strong hill billy arms pulling him backwards. The gun was sent flying through the air back into Rick's hands.

"Nice try suckerrrr. But your boyfriend knows better than to m-muhrp-mess with a trans-dimensional portal gun. Ahahah, you shoulda seen your FACE," Rick cackled "Priceless. But, I can't say I didn't miss having you on top of me."

Rick righted himself, with only minimal swaying. The power of Stan's snarl was weakened by the tears welling at the corner of his eyes.

"Aw jeez don't look at me like that. It's for your own good. I can't have regular people coming on my ad-urhp-adventures with me, too dangerous."

"But you take me everywhere and I'm just a-"

"Sh-shut it, Morty. You're different. We're Rick and Morty! Rick and Morty and Stan doesn't have the s-same ring to it."

"He's right you know," Fiddleford whispered. "You can't go gallivanting off through time and space with no idea where to go." 

Stan turned to burrow his face into Fiddleford's neck hiding the pain that passed over his face, wiry arms returned to hug broad shoulders. Fiddleford pressed a kiss to Stan's temple.

"Aw," Morty cooed, "isn't that sweet, Rick?"

"So sweet I'm gonna throw up." Rick made an exaggerated retching noise, a feint that crossed into reality as the actual acidic contents of his stomach splashing onto the floor.

"Uh, I can fix that."

A knob was turned on the portal gun and the vomit was hit with a yellow beam, before dissipating completely in seconds.

"Nice party trick," Stan said bitterly, but Fiddleford's eyes had lit up.

"Oh golly isn't that a wonderful contraption! Do you mind if I see that?" Fiddleford removed himself from comforting Stan, moving tentatively towards Rick, who suddenly backed away defensively.

"He-hey, wait! I don't let any old fruit touch my baby!"

"I'm not gonna hurt it or hurt you. I just wanna see it."

"YOU? Hurt me? Why-why-why do you know how many places in the multiverse I've visited?! I have hundreds, no thousands of people trying to hurt all versions of me! I'm not frightened of you."

"You're right," Fiddleford hung his head, "I'm not much of a danger anymore. My giant robot monsters don't much compare to real giant monsters, I suppose."

"G-giant robot monsters?!" Morty trembled wringing his hands, "Rick why is everyone you know so destructive!"

"Don't worry fella," Fiddleford said, "I a stopped makin' those now I got Stan and company helping me get the memories I took from myself. Still get the itchin' now and then tho, so please I do ask if I could just give that there machine a look over." Fiddleford was nearly salivating as he stared at the barrel in Rick's hands.

Rick slowly looked to where the owner of the Mystery Shack was still hunched on the floor. "Stan, you never told me you had a type."

"I'm getting too old for this," Stan muttered in disgust.

"No shit, Sherlock. L-look at you and your Southern Belle of a wife here. And those grandkids too? Puh-playin' house and everything. Never thought you'd turn out so b-urp-boring. In fact, I can't bother staying here another minute waiting for your boyfriend to dump you so he can in good conscience offer to suck me off in exchange for my portal gun. So, Morty and I are gonna hit the hay."

 

"I was just tryin' to be friendly."

"Rick doesn't wanna be friendly. He'll do what he always does. Sweep in for a couple a days, wreck the place, and leave."

"That don't sound like too much trouble," Fiddleford said, "I sure hope I can get a look at his machinery before he leaves. " Images of wires and metal flew through his imagination; he felt lightheaded with excitement. 

"No, " Stan said, emphatically "His science is as dangerous as my brother's. I don't want you to be friends with him. Trust me: he's bad news, Fids. Doesn't give a shit about anyone. Not me. Not that poor sap of grandson of his. Not even himself."

 

Stan was snoring heavily, lying flat on his back. Fiddleford couldn't sleep, rolling around uncomfortably. The night's shenanigans had him too keyed up, he had to find a way to relax.

The roof.

Fiddleford crawled up the ladder, but the outlook was not deserted. A familiar spindly form sat with his legs dangling over the edge, swinging in the cool night breeze. Fiddleford sat next to him. Rick took another swig of his flask, and without meeting Fiddleford's eyes, extended his arm to offer the drink to his new companion.

"Gave that up a while ago. I've had my fair share of addictions."

"Whatever, goody-hurp-two shoes." Rick threw his head back, downing the last drops. "I can't go back, I'm n-not going back."

They sat in silence for several minutes.

"I thought y-you'd be angrier that I kissed him."

"Not really. I'm used to thinking I'm going to lose things that make me happy."

"God, that's fucking depressing."

Fiddleford shrugged.

"All right, listen up, buddy," Rick turned the full force of his eyes on Fiddleford, brandishing his finger, "You're NOT gonna lose this, hear me. Stan'll stay with you. Cause at least you're trying to get better. He needs this s-so if I hear you break his heart like I did I'll come back and break your scrawny neck."

And as quickly as the fiery threat was given Rick turned somber again, eyes avoiding Fiddleford's reaction in favour of examining the spaceship parked on the lawn.

"S-so, I'll get out of your hair before the sun comes up. Didn't count on kids here. And y-you. I'm not a homewrecker. Except my own, hah."

Fiddleford did not reply. For the next ten minutes the two men sat side by side, watching the moon and stars move above them. 

"I've fucked up a lot of things, McGucket, I'm getting too old for this," Rick echoed. Stan's words flew out into the void, swallowed by the air. Fiddleford nodded, afraid any words might destroy the delicate camaraderie that only such uniquely ruined old men could share. Rick swallowed hard, a hand coming up to his brow. His thin shoulders quaked. Fiddleford thought he might cry, but instead Rick only stood, took a deep stabilizing breath, and jumped from the roof, landing lightly on the ground three stories below. Fiddleford could see his shoes blinking with mysterious power. Rick was rapping on the window that led to the small living room.

"Hey, hey, Morty! We gotta go. We gotta go, Morty!"

The light brown haired teenager slammed the window open. "What the hell Rick it's only been three hours since we went to bed!"

"I snagged the rest of Stan's coffee we'll be fine. C'mon, M-muhurp-Morty." Fiddleford watched the boy be wrenched through the window, "There's more to see, more to do. And you're Grandpa isn't g-urp-gonna miss any of it by getting caught in buttfuck Oregon."

 

When he returned to the bedroom Stan was awake.

"Where you been?"

"I took a walk. My minds been out of sorts tonight."

He climbed into the covers Stan had already flipped open, before relaxing into the awaiting embrace. 

"Y'know you don't gotta worry about me running off with Rick or something like that. I know what side my bread's buttered on."

Fiddleford reached to stroke Stan's cheek, hoping to assuage his lover's anxiety.

"Oh, I'm gonna butter you up real good." Fiddleford laugh, pleased to see the tenseness drain out of his lover's shoulders at the joke. He ran a teasing hand across Stan's chest.

"Now what were we doin' before all that ruckus? Remind me, darlin'."

**Author's Note:**

> This probably deserved to be more developed than I have written, but I havent slept in 24 hours and I also wanted to get this out in time for Fiddlestan Week! Day 2: An Outside Perspective
> 
> wubba lubba dub dub!
> 
> www.fiddlestan.tumblr.com


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